Through the Curtains
by jlg16
Summary: The Morgenstern's are the apple of the public's eye. They are beautiful, smart, successful, and everything the rest of the world can only hope to be. However, behind closed doors comes a harsh reality that they are millions of miles away from perfect, and it's Clary that has to bear the weight of their vices.
1. Prologue

**(a/n Well, I've been avoiding uploading this for a long time now, but I've finally said fuck it. So, here's a short prologue (the chapter's to come are much longer.) The lyrics at the beginning of each section are from Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez (I don't own 'em), which originally inspired this story to begin with. Just like the lyrics, I don't own Cassandra Clare's characters. Obviously.)**

No one ever listens, this wallpaper glistens

Don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen

 _Her brother stood in the door frame of her bedroom, his back towards her. She could hear yelling, but his body was blocking her view of the source. Though she couldn't see them, she knew her parents stood a few meters away in the kitchen, and they clearly did not care what their children heard. "You cheating son of a bitch!" their mother screeched, followed by the sound of glass breaking. Trying to see what happened, Clary stepped to the side to have a clear view. The redhead could see the 12-year-old in front of her tense, right before their father raised his hand and smacked their mother across the face._

 _Tears trailed down the 7-year-old's cheeks but she could not bring herself to look away. As she clutched her stuffed bunny, her father clutched her mother's arms in a very different manner. Before she could see what happened next, Jonathan abruptly slammed the door, turning towards her. Gently, he took her hand and led her to her bed, where he sat her down. "Hey, it's okay. It's all gonna be okay," he whispered as he knelt in front of her, wiping her tears. As much as Clary wanted to believe him, she could see the wetness in his eyes and hear the uncertainty in his voice._

~•~

Hey, girl, look at my mom, she's got it going on  
You're blinded by her jewelry.  
When you turn your back she pulls out a flask  
And forgets his infidelity.

 _Two years later, the pair stood by the front door, half hidden by a wall. Their mother was at the country club with all her socialite 'friends'. The siblings watched as their father came in the house with a tall blonde woman trailing behind him. She was dressed in such a way that the 9-year-old Clary had never seen before, but she knew the teachers at her upscale private school would frown upon._

 _The sides of her mouth turned down as the woman giggled and gave her dad a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He led her up the stairs and Clary could hear her brother whisper, "Slut." She didn't know what it meant, but she could detect the hatred in his voice and had a feeling he was right._

~•~

You don't hear me when I say,  
"Mom, please wake up.  
Dad's with a slut, and your son is smoking cannabis."

 _The next year, Clary was on her own as her mother lay on the couch with a bottle of alcohol. Her dad was at work, but based on her mother's ramblings, his own wife didn't seem to think so. Meanwhile, Clary wasn't sure what Jon had been doing in his room all the time, but he sure was acting differently. Feeling lonelier than ever, the young girl ran to her room and cried under her covers._

~•~

Picture, picture, smile for the picture  
Pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister?

 _She was thirteen and her mother had them pose for one of many family photos. By then, she knew what the word slut meant and she knew what her brother did in his room. The smell of weed hung in the air around him and she couldn't bring herself to move any closer to the boy with the ash blond hair. Her mother frowned as she arranged them, pushing her towards Jonathon and whispering in her ear, "Oh Clary, be a good sister, will you?"_

 _Always obedient, Clary steeled herself and stepped next to him as he put his arm around her. Her eyes widened when his hand slipped lower down her back than it should have. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run away as fast as she could from those damned people and that god forsaken house that held secrets she had to keep from the rest of the world._

~•~

Hey, girl, open the walls, play with your dolls  
We'll be a perfect family.

 _A few months later she met Mayor Lightwood's children. They became her closest friends. They knew her family was a little off, but the hadn't an inkling of what went on behind closed doors._

~•~

Everyone thinks that we're perfect  
Please don't let them look through the curtains.

 _By the time she was fourteen, it was firmly drilled into her head that she had to be whatever the public wanted to see, or she would face repercussions. They were socialites. Her father was a businessman. He walked among New York's most prominent citizens on the daily. She would too. She had to look her best and act her best, regardless of how she felt, considering her family was being watched 24/7. Her parents would not have their daughter be featured in scandals on covers of tabloids, because, according to them, her father had "big plans on the horizon." Clary found it ironic that, despite the public always looking and always watching, no one could see the hell that existed behind the walls her seemingly perfect house in her seemingly perfect neighborhood._

~•~

When you walk away is when we really play

 _She was fifteen the first time her bastard of a father hit her._

~•~

No one ever listens, this wallpaper glistens  
One day they'll see what goes down in the kitchen.

 _Age twenty two. After years and years of keeping up appearances, shit hit the fan, and everything began changing._

 **(Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated. Fingers crossed for relatively frequent updates. xoxo)**


	2. Chapter One

"Now we'd like to give a warm welcome to Valentine Morgenstern, the recipient of our seventh annual humanitarian award."

Her eyes, along with a thousand others, followed the man as he got up from their table and made his way to the stage situated in the front of the room. The woman that introduced him gave him a chaste hug before walking off stage. When Valentine approached the microphone, applause that Clary hadn't even noticed she'd joined began to die down. She couldn't bear to listen to what was surely going to be an _extremely_ heartfelt speech, so she discreetly averted her eyes and looked to the rest of the large room.

Round tables were scattered throughout a portion of the floor, many with familiar faces that Clary was required to memorize. Her gaze slid past several tables whose occupants were stuffy old men and trophy wives with their faces barely registering in the depths of her memory, before lingering slightly on the Blackthorn's and Penhallow's, who she considered friends, once upon a time.

Eventually, Clary's eyes fell on the Lightwood's. They were probably the most prominent family here, with Robert being the mayor of New York City. His wife Maryse sat at his right, looking as polished as ever. Next came two of their children, Isabelle and Alec, her closest-and only-friends.

Isabelle's jet black hair was pulled up into an intricate twist at the nape of her neck, not to take any attention away from her stunning silver and navy gown that did nothing but flatter her. Not that she needed much help, anyways. Every once and awhile she and her tuxedo clad brother, would share a look when things got especially boring or bordering on cheesy. She knew the two of them were jealous of the youngest Lightwood, Max, who was still young enough to stay far away from formal banquets. Clary was, too.

Everything Clary was seeing so far was to be expected; it was almost protocall. However, she was not expecting to see three faces that she recognized instantly, even if they were much less familiar than those of the Lightwood's.

Sat next to Robert was his sister, Celine. Her hair was blonde, a stark contrast to her brother's. Clary thought the Herondale woman looked regal, in a sense; like the kind of person she'd catch herself drawing. Though, even from her distance, Clary thought the woman's eyes looked dull and indifferent while they stared at Valentine; though, at the same time it was like she wasn't really watching him at all.

Meanwhile, on Celine's other side was her husband, Stephen, who seemed to be listening intently. He had a slightly different shade of blond hair, and his face looked older than Clary suspected him to actually be. The couple seemed to be purposely spaced out from each other, Celine leaning towards her brother, and Stephen leaning toward the boy with the mop of blonde hair who sat to his right. It was their son, Jace.

Clary hadn't had an actual conversation with him for close to a year, and since then she has only seen him across the room at parties or clubs she's gone to with Isabelle, on the occasion he's in New York. Even though she doesn't see him often, she sure does hear about him. Alec is constantly going out to meet him when the blond has flown in from Los Angeles, to do who knows what. Even on the occasions when Max is home from his prestigious upstate boarding school, he chatters about Jace any chance he gets. Clary also hears complaints about the boy being an ass from Izzy, though she knows they're not whole-hearted.

As for looks, well, he hasn't changed a bit over the last year, and for him that's a good thing. He still had golden hair with a slight curl to it, and a face that made girls line up for a chance to talk to him. Of course, Clary had to admit he was _more_ than attractive, but it never fooled her. She met Jace when she was fourteen, and, well he wasn't the nicest fifteen-year-old around. Since then, they've shared a few thoughtful conversations, but the appeal was still lost to her.

Clary began thinking about their last exchange a year ago, but soon realized that the gold eyes looking at her were not in her memory, but staring at her from the Lightwood's table. Her cheeks turned 15 shades of red and she prayed the coat of makeup she was already wearing masked it. The boy gave her a smirk and she just about died of embarrassment. However, she mustered up some courage and gave a coy smile with her head held high, before turning her attention back to the stage.

"…and most importantly, I'd like to thank my wife and kids, who have supported me through everything; because of them I feel like the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn't be more grateful." Unable to contain herself, Clary gave a humorless eye roll with a slight downturn to the corners of her lips. However, when the cameras of the press turned to her and the rest of her family to capture their reactions, she made quick work of smiling sweetly, even going as far as wiping fake tears from her eyes. Jace never looked away, witnessing her performance from beginning to end.

Valentine then left the stage, shaking a few hands before giving his wife a hug and a chaste peck on the cheek. As he took his seat Clary turned towards him with a smile before he gave her a small hug. Her stomach lurched and her fists her clenched so hard her knuckles were turning white. Jace could see how tense she was and his curiosity peaked.

Clary stood amongst evening gowns and tuxedos as idle chatter filled the room. The middle-aged man in front of her would not stop talking about his son that was a few years older than her, and it was painfully obvious as to what he was hinting at. He must've been sure she'd be getting a hefty inheritance. Clary grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, praying it was poisoned for the sole purpose of getting out of this conversation. Then, as if there were some greater power that finally took pity on her, Isabelle walked up beside her.

"Excuse me, Mr Morris, would you mind if I stole Clary from you?"

"Of course not, Miss Lightwood. Have a lovely evening, ladies." With a nod of his head the man walked away.

"Oh thank god Izzy, if I had to listen to one more minute of him talking about his precious Wyatt Jr I would've jumped off one of the balconies."

"Well, now you owe me one," she said with a shrug. Clary immediately groaned. Owing Izzy always comes back to bite her in the ass.

"Yeah, whatever, when is this over? I don't know how much longer I can last," Clary said before downing what was left in her flute of champagne and setting the empty glass on a nearby table.

"An hour, maybe two? But, in the meantime, we can scope out some eye candy," she said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"Does it even matter, Iz? Every guy here is a conceited snob, anyways."

"Hey! I take offense to that," said a voice coming up behind them. Both girls turned around to see Alec approaching and Jace trailing behind.

"Alec, has our dear Clary ever told a lie?" Isabelle said in a sarcastically sweet voice and her brother glowered in return.

"Clearly, because there is much more more to me than my stunningly good looks."

"Jace, it's been too long," Clary said with mild annoyance lacing her voice.

"Indeed, carrot top, indeed." A waiter, who Clary considered a godsend, walked past with another tray of champagne and she graciously took yet another glass.

"Jeez, Clary, slow it down. How many have you had tonight?"

"You're not my babysitter, Iz. I know how to hold my booze." Clary paled after hearing herself. She sounded like her mother.

"Fine, but-" Isabelle was cut off by one of the women getting on the microphone to draw everyone's attention.

"Hello everyone! We hope you're enjoying your evening. The night's winding down, so we're going to have a partner's waltz for anyone that hasn't gotten on the dance floor yet! Go find someone special and move your feet!"

"What the fuck is this, a middle school dance?" Alec muttered. He would've just danced with Clary or Isabelle, but he knew his parents would have a fit if he didn't socialize. After all, they wanted him to find a nice girl to commit to, if only for a little while. So, he turned around and asked one of the first girls he saw. She was petite and blonde and looked overjoyed. The group looked on with pity, _if only she knew._

Clary started to panic when some brave soul came and swept Izzy away, abandoning her. Poor guy must not have known that Iz chews all her guys up and spits them right back out. Or, he thought he could be the one to "conquer" her. A lot of them do, and they're wrong every time.

Clary _did not_ want to deal with this. She didn't want to talk to air-headed strangers and most definitely did not want them touching her. She was nowhere near the prettiest one there, but boys always swarmed because of her all thought she'd be inheriting some good money, and they wanted a share.

As she was debating whether or not running out of the room would be a good idea, she noticed a sea of girls gathering around, all thinking they were _discreetly_ waiting for Jace to ask them to dance. They were far from inconspicuous.

Clary and Jace suddenly made eye contact, and a grin spread across his face. _Oh no._ "Clary, may I have this dance?" he said loudly, with faux formality. She could feel what felt like thousands of glares trained on her.

"Sure," Clary managed to say. Better him than a stranger, she supposed. They walked out to the dance floor as Dreamer's Waltz started to play.

"So, you enjoy pissing your admirers' off?" she said as she glanced over his shoulder, seeing girls looking at them shamelessly, half looking as if they were going to beat her to a pulp, and the others looking like they were about to cry.

"No little red," Jace said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "you just look _ravishing_ tonight.'

Clary glared when he moved upright again. "Wish I could say the same, goldilocks."

He feigned hurt my sniffling and twisting his mouth into a frown. "My fragile ego can't endure such blows."

"Most people would say it's big enough to stand a few more."

"It's not the only thing of mine people say is big," he said with a smirk. _Oh god._ Clary's cheeks heated profusely for the second time that night.

"So, Jace, what brings the Herondale's here?" she stammered out us quickly as possible.

"Well, my uncle invited my parents. My mother wanted to fly in from California anyways, seeing as I'm in the process of moving into an apartment downtown."

Clary was sure her eyebrows must've went up to her hairline. "Why?"

"Well, I'm done with Stanford, so I'm finishing law school at Columbia."

"God, I have no idea how anyone could stand going to law school. Especially at Columbia. It sounds like torture."

Jace rolled his eyes, "I know, I know. I'm _amazing_. But enough about me and my many virtues, what do you spend your time doing, Little Red?"

"I'll be a senior at NYU in the Fall." She mentally kicked herself for continuing to respond to ridiculous nicknames.

"Impressive, but not nearly as impressive as me. What's your major?"

"Business." Not that she had any choice in the matter. If it were up to her she'd be finishing up art school.

"How sweet. Daddy's little girl is just like him."

Clary knew it was an innocent comment, afterall, they were being snarky throughout the whole dance. However, it didn't stop her stomach from dropping and tears from pricking her eyes. She swore both the old and new bruises under her long sleeves began throbbing. She took an abrupt step back, still looking Jace in the eye. "Clary, what-"

She didn't wait to hear the end of his sentence, instead she spun around and started a brisk walk towards the bathroom. As she moved through the door she vaguely registered the song ending. Next thing Clary knew, she was staring at the mirror through teary eyes with an iron grip on the sink. She tried to even her breathing as she continued the mantra in her head, _I am not my father._

 **(a/n I hope everyone liked chapter one, and thank you to those who reviewd the prologue. The story's still settling into its skin and I don't have anymore written, so, well, I'm not promising a quick update. I'll try to get chapter 2 up asap, and reviews are appreciated! xoxo)**


	3. Chapter Two

Clary woke up the next day to shuffling outside of her bedroom door. She had a slight ache in her head and drool on her face. Groaning, she rolled onto her side and swept the stray curls off her face with one hand, while straining to reach for her phone with the other. She finally made contact with it and squinted at the time. 9:00. Not that early, but if it were up to her she would sleep until dinner.

Much to her dismay, two sharp knocks sounded at the door, followed by her mother stepping halfway into the room. Jocelyn was already dressed and ready, with her makeup done and hair framing her face in waves. "We're going to brunch at 10:30. Be ready, Clary," and just as quick she entered, she was gone.

The girl sighed and rolled out of bed, forcing herself to get up and slowly make her way to her en suite. The last thing she wanted to do today was go out in public and endure the torture of an entire meal with her family. Regardless, Clary stripped out of her oversized t-shirt and pajama pants, turned on the water and let steam fill the room. Before stepping into the shower, Clary turned towards the mirror on the wall, looking at herself with nothing but underwear on her body.

When she was five or six, her father had a brief role on a (failed) reality show, _Businessmen of America._ It chronicled the lives of five of America's most successful businessmen, and it was canceled after two seasons. However, that show started the public's fascination with the Morgenstern family. They were on covers of magazines and talked about on TV. The media especially loved Valentine's precious daughter, who they often compared to a porcelain doll when she was little, all perfect pale skin and vibrant curls.

Now, staring at her body, all Clary could compare herself to was a broken and ragged porcelain doll. Freckles and bruises and a couple scars littered her pale skin, and she traced her finger over those traveling down her arm. She supposed it could be worse, most of the bruises were from the harsh grip of her father's fingers, only few of them from the impact of his hand. On several occasions, her face has been temporarily adorned with an angry red mark delivered by his palm, but they never stayed for long.

A shiver rippled through Clary's body, and she quickly stripped herself of her final garment and stepped into the stream of hot water. As the drops hit her face, she was reminded of last night, when she stood at the public bathroom's sink and dabbed her face off with a damp paper towel, careful not to ruin her meticulously applied makeup.

 _Eventually, she had calmed her breathing and mentally prepared herself to leave the sanctuary of the restroom, crossing over to the door. She reached out to pull it open, right as someone else from the other side pushed it open. It was Isabelle, wearing a concerned look on her face as she looked down at Clary._

" _Clary? Are you okay? What's wrong?"_

" _I'm fine, Izzy. Just felt sick is all."_

" _Are you sure? Jace said-"_

" _Yes, Iz, I'm sure."_

 __" _Okay, if you say so. This shitshow is almost over, can you make it?"_

" _Yeah, I'll be okay."_

" _You better be, my birthday party's tomorrow!"_

" _Oh god, maybe I am sick."_

" _Shut up, you owe me, remember?" Izzy winked and took Clary's hand, pulling her through the door._

Clary snapped out of her many thoughts when the water cascading down started to get cold, signaling the end of her shower. She quickly finished up, before turning off the water and stepping back out onto the tile. She toweled off and slipped into a robe, combed through her hair, and stepped back through the door into her room. Her bare feet were grateful when she stepped from the cold tile onto the lush carpet.

She glanced at the clock and its hands told her it was 9:30. _Shit._ To most people, "going to brunch at 10:30" meant leaving at 10:30. To her parents it meant getting there for a 10:30 reservation, and arriving no less than ten minutes early. Clary saw it as extremely unreasonable, especially considering New York's traffic is a bitch on good days. But then again, her parents very existence seemed unreasonable most times.

Nevertheless, she scrambled back into the bathroom, grabbing her hair dryer and making quick work of trying to dry and tame her unruly hair. Fifteen minutes later, it was would have to do. Clary braided it back into a bun at the nape of her neck, hoping her mother would deem it acceptable and not make her go redo it, before getting angry at her for "making them late." She then rushed to her closet and yanked the door open, surveying the mix of designer clothes with the ripped jeans and oversized shirts she wears anytime she can get away with it (barely ever).

Clary let out a huff and grabbed an expensive pair of jeans and a lace blouse, pulling them on after her bra and underwear. She moved to her stash of makeup and put on her foundation and mascara in record time. Stepping in front of the mirror, she slipped on some wedges and took a moment to inspect herself. The jeans clung to her body in the most flattering way the tailor could manage, and her sleeves came to a stop right below her elbows. Luckily, any markings were hidden, all of them residing almost exclusively on her biceps. Clary thought her outfit was pretty good. Her makeup wasn't half bad either, considering she did it herself. Hopefully her mother would think the same thing.

She had made it downstairs to her waiting family at 9:57. Her father stood by the door in a button down shirt and khaki slacks, looking at his watch and tapping his foot. As soon as she stepped into view, he nodded and walked out of the house, climbing into the passenger's seat of his brand new Tahoe with his driver waiting inside.

Both her mother and her brother proceeded to take a moment to look her up and down, for two very different reasons. After Jocelyn inspected her, she turned on her heel and walked the same path as Valentine did a moment before, and climbed into the back seat. She must have approved, or was too worried about being on time to care. Meanwhile, Jonathan was still staring at Clary while she hurriedly walked out the door, heading to the car where her parents waited. She was just thankful there were three rows of seats and she didn't have to sit next to her brother.

~•~

The drive to the restaurant was completed in total silence, while Clary prayed that it would end soon. Though, it wasn't much better when they arrived and were seated, all of them quietly looking at their menus. Eventually, they ordered, and it was Valentine that spoke the first words.

"Well, I'd say last night went rather well. Don't you think?" They all knew his question wasn't meant to be answered. However, the smile fell from his face and he turned to the snowy haired boy, "Jonathan, I saw you dancing with Kaelie Whitewillow." He said it with fake cheerfulness. Jon cleared his throat.

"Um, yes, I was." Valentine was the only person Clary has ever seen that could make Jonathan squirm under their gaze. Their father leaned in close, before talking in a low voice.

"I don't care what you do in your… free time, but I don't want you publicly seen with that slut. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." It was at that moment when Valentine sat back in his chair and the waiter brought out their food. "Let's eat, shall we?" Clary was grateful when her waffle was set down in front of her so she had something to occupy her hands with. Maybe if she didn't look up from eating, her father wouldn't turn the conversation towards her. She glanced back and forth between the two Morgenstern men, they both seemed to have recovered from the conversation moments ago, and it caused Clary to ponder their odd relationship.

Valentine was a million times easier on Jonathan than he was on Clary, nowadays. He still kept a close eye on his son's reputation, but he, unlike with Clary, didn't care what the boy did on his own time, as long as it was done in absolute secret. Or, at least that's what she's gathered from Jonathan getting high on various kinds of drugs and having a sex life that rivaled Casanova's, all while Valentine turns a (certainly not) blind eye. With Jonathan, all he cares about is keeping his scandals in the dark, though with Clary she can't have them in any lighting.

Though, previously, things were the other way around. Between Valentine's two children, Jonathan beared the brunt of their father's anger. That's why Valentine was so capable of making the twenty-seven year old so uneasy; the same reason he was so capable of making them all so uneasy.

Clary was brought out of her reflection when her father cleared his throat. "Clarissa, I also saw you dancing with Stephen Herondale's son."

"Oh, um, yes. Jace asked me to dance."

Jocelyn decided this would be a good moment to join the conversation. "I noticed you ran off to the bathroom, what was that about?" She said it casually, taking a bite of her food immediately after. Clary saw Valentine's eyebrows raise, and it definitely wasn't in a casual manner.

"I just... felt dizzy. I needed some quiet." Her mother looked skeptical, but her father spoke before she could say anything.

"Well, I hope your little meltdown didn't turn him off too much."

Clary stuttered. "What's that supposed to mean?" His eyes flashed and she realized she had "talked back". She swallowed and hoped for the best.

"Surely, Clarissa, you realize that you need to start thinking about settling down with someone."

"B-but, I'm only twenty-two!" He scowled. Strike two.

"You need to think about your future. Jonathan is working for me, and will take over when I move onto bigger things. You, however, have to start thinking about who's going to support you."

Clary's face heated in anger, and she swore her hands started shaking. "Why would I do that? What if I don't want to be a damn trophy wife!?" His eyes narrowed. Strike three.

"Because, Clarissa, you are a woman who clearly can't handle her emotions, if that outburst was any indication." His voice was menacing. Clary wanted nothing more than to yell and scream and throw something, but she knew the repercussions would be detrimental. Luckily, the waiter started approaching the table, and Valentine eased back into his cool demeanor. Clary wasn't fooled, she knew her punishment would come later. She silently cursed, knowing there was no way he would let her go to Isabelle's party later that night.

The waiter walked away after asking if their food was okay. Valentine quickly eased back into their previous conversation, much more casually than where they left off. "Anyways, the Herondale's are a well established family. You'd be lucky if their son took interest in you." Clary bit her tongue, hard. She couldn't afford another slip-up. So, she sat there, dejected and angry, while the conversation turned to a new topic entirely.

~•~

When the family arrived back home, Valentine immediately grabbed Clary's arm in an iron grip, and she gasped as tears pooled in her eyes. However, she didn't dare speak or cry out as he pulled her to the side of the foyer. "What makes you think you can speak to me like that? I am your father. If it weren't for me you'd be a whore on the streets." His grip tightened. "I better not hear you talk like that to me ever again. You're lucky we were in public." Clary expected a slap to the face, but instead he roughly shoved her away. "Don't even think about leaving this house, Clarissa. Now go to your room." She quickly nodded, looked to the floor, and scurried up the stairs. She felt like a child. _So much for the party._

 **(a/n Yoooo I'm back. I hope that update time wasn't too bad. I'm back to school and it sucks and I'm super busy but I promise I'll find time to write and upload. Anyways, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I also know I never will be so I just put it up. It's kinda boring and only features the Morgenstern's but I think it established some backstory and different dynamics. I promise the next chapter will have lots of Jace & Izzy & the whole rest of the crew! Also, I just want to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the reviews. They really truly make my day (not to mention they give me more motivation to write). And a big thank you to the guest reviewers that I can't respond to (I wish I could, your reviews were great!) I also had someone ask if there would be any Jace pov, so I'm leaving that up to you guys, let me know what you think. If you want it, I'll try to fit it in. And I'm definitely planning on the story expanding to include and have sections centered on other character's problems/lives/backstories/relationships, so other povs may come naturally later on. So once again, thank you for reading & reviewing & favoriting & following, it truly, truly means the world to me. I'm gonna end it here cause I always make my a/n's too long, but I will say I do upload chapters as soon as I'm done revising them, and I can't promise a schedule, but I'm going to try to update once a week, but realistically it will probably be every two. Thank you and I hope you enjoyed! xoxo )**


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